


Shoulder to Cry On

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Biting, Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: “You offered once to mark me."Shoulder to Cry OnA person who gives sympathy and support
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 171
Kudos: 1019





	1. Chapter 1

Dandelion didn’t seem keen to mention the events in Temeria, as though he thought that ignoring them would make it all go away. Geralt allowed him to remain mum on the subject, although he found himself keeping an even sharper eye than usual on the bard as they traveled.

They cut slightly north to Redania, just for the sake of getting out of the country that had wronged Dandelion, then cut sharply west to the coast. They considered going to Skellige but then decided that neither of them was in the mood for that.

He found contracts along the way, and Dandelion performed at every inn and market they passed. They stopped by Oxenfurt for a few days, which Dandelion swore was his favorite city, and the bard spent several days at his alma mater and was even convinced to give a guest lecture.

Soon they found themselves in Novigrad, just as summer was coming to an end. Geralt took a contract on a group of drowners that had been seen on the river, and Dandelion spent the day composing while watching ships in the harbor.

They met for dinner back at the inn, but Dandelion was unusually quiet, picking at his food and barely asking any questions as Geralt talked about the drowner contract. The Witcher tried moving the conversation onto other things that might interest Dandelion more, but the bard continued to only give slight grunts and monosyllabic answers, barely picking at his dinner.

“You offered once to mark me.”

Geralt looked up at his friend, his mouth too full of meat to reply. He wasn’t certain where the topic had even come from since the last thing they’d been discussing was the latest gossip from Oxenfurt (which amused Geralt far more than he would ever admit).

“I did,” he said. “And then I dropped the subject, as you requested.”

“Geralt- ever since-” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Ever since my arrest I’ve been thinking. If I’d been marked, they’d have left me be.”

“Or held you captive until I arrived,” Geralt corrected.

Dandelion shrugged. “Yes, but, Geralt don’t you see? I’d never have been raped or sold.”

“No.”

The bard looked up at him. “Would you do it?”

Geralt nodded slowly. “If it’s what you want.”

“No, I can’t say it’s what I want. What I want is to be completely free of this disgusting mess. But that won’t happen.” He tilted his head, studying the Witcher. “But this- this could help.”

“It's up to you, Dandelion.”

“I want it.”

Geralt nodded, thinking. “We’ll go to Kaer Morhen for the winter.”

Dandelion gave him a slightly confused look, scrunching up his nose and squinting. “ _We_?” he repeated. “Geralt my friend, I know you usually winter at the Witcher School, but what reason would I have-”

“You’ll be safe there until I can mark you.” And after he’d marked him, because Geralt had no illusions that the process would go smoothly. Nothing involving Dandelion’s heats ended well.

“I- oh.” Dandelion was uncharacteristically silent, so Geralt reached across the table and patted his shoulder.

“You can still change your mind at any time.”

“Stop saying that,” snapped the troubadour. “I know what I want Geralt. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I woke up in that disgusting cell.”

“If we head north now, we’ll be at the Keep well before winter.” There were complications to his plan, of course - namely Lambert - but that’s a hurdle he would deal with when it arrived. He didn’t see any of them doing anything against Dandelion, not on purpose, but the witchers are a crass lot, so he wasn’t certain what might inadvertently be said.

Geralt bit the inside of his lip, sharply reminding himself that Dandelion wasn’t _weak_. Cowardly? Yes (not that Geralt would have accused him of it out loud). But never a fool. If anyone could handle the Witchers, it was the bard.

“It’s settled then,” Dandelion said, with the air of someone who was choosing what he wanted for supper. “I’m going to the Passiflora,” he said suddenly. “Care to join me.”

The Witcher snorted. Of course Dandelion was going to a brothel. “Fuck it,” he said. “Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the fact that its canon that they go to brothels together. Do they share a prostitute? We don't know. But they certainly go together.


	2. Chapter 2

They headed out from Novigrad soon after that, Dandelion having found and purchased a mare that he happily named Pegasus. Geralt thought the name was ridiculous and didn’t waste time in telling Dandelion that.

The bard only replied that people who named their horses Roach didn’t get an opinion on such matters.

He’d been afraid that Dandelion would be moping the entire time, as though a cloud was hanging over him, but instead the poet was his usual cheerful self, laughing and carrying on a conversation, even though it was mostly one-sided.

It was growing cold by the time they reached the northern mountains, and Geralt gave Dandelion his cloak to wrap in since the bard’s brightly colored clothing did nothing to protect him from the weather. By the time they got to Kaer Morhen, the first snows of winter had begun to set in.

Vesemir met them in the stables, and although he gave Dandelion a questioning look, he didn’t ask, instead clapping the poet on the back warmly. “Its high time I finally met you!” he said cheerfully.

“Where are the others?” Geralt asked after Dandelion had bounced out of earshot, off to inspect part of the crumbling keep.

“No sign of Coen yet,” replied Vesemir. “Lambert’s been here a few weeks, and Eskel only just arrived.”

Geralt nodded, glancing after Dandelion. “Lambert doesn’t like him.”

“Lambert hates his guts,” corrected Vesemir. “But don’t let him bother you, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Geralt smiled and embraced his old friend. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Vesemir only pushed him away, but his eyes glittered with happiness.

They spent much of the day exploring Kaer Morhen, since Dandelion found it fascinating, demanding to hear about the history of the ruins.

“You must have studied it in school,” said Geralt.

“It’s different being here!” argued the poet, leaning far enough over the wall that Geralt grabbed his belt so he wouldn’t fall. “Hands on learning, after all.”

“If you insist.”

They stumbled across Eskel first. He was sitting on one of the towers, staring out toward the road. “I saw your approach.” He held out his hand to Dandelion without moving from his perch. “Eskel.”

The bard shook his hand happily. Behind him, Geralt gave a sharp shake of his head, urging Eskel not to ask questions. Thankfully, the Witcher seemed uninterested. “Lambert’s fishing,” he said, nodding toward the lake. Upon closer inspection, Geralt could see a dark figure sulking on the shore.

“If we hurry, we can shut the gate before he returns,” Geralt suggested.

Eskel grinned. “Now there’s a good idea, Wolf.”

They left Eskel to his surveying, wandering back into the bowels of the fortress. “Watch the floor,” Geralt warned. “The wood is rotted in places. Don’t fall through.”

They kept to the stone sections of floor, or Geralt went first, feeling before each step, Dandelion carefully placing his foot exactly where the Witcher had walked.

Lambert returned by the time they returned to the main room for dinner, although Vesemir must have said something to him because he scowled at the Poet in silence.

Dandelion kept up a friendly conversation with Eskel, prying the details of his most recent contracts from him with ease. As they talked, Geralt slipped over to Vesemir.

“Why’d you bring him?” the aged Witcher asked softly.

Geralt rubbed his face with a slight groan. “He- he wants me to mark him.” Confusion flicked across Vesemir’s face, but before he could ask questions, Geralt continued, “He’s been… hurt for being an omega. I promised to do whatever I could to protect him.”

“There’s an old room at the back of the Keep, underground,” Vesemir said after a moment’s consideration. “The old mage’s quarters.”

Geralt remembered the mage who had once lived at Kaer Morhen vividly. He’d been terrified of the man who’s been in charge of the mutations, and couldn’t say that he was sorry he’d died in the massacre that had decimated the Witcher population.

“It should still be safe, but I’ll check it tomorrow. You’ll be out of earshot there.”

“Thank you.”

“Leave the others to me. You worry about that bard.”

After supper, they retired together to Geralt’s room, and Dandelion wasted no time in burrowing into the furs on the bed, complaining that he was still cold. The Witcher stretched out beside him, letting his friend borrow his body heat.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

Dandelion shifted uneasily. “What is there to talk about, Geralt?”

“Your heat.”

“I’ve stopped taking the suppressant,” he said after a moment. “It- it shouldn’t be far off.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

The poet pushed himself onto his elbows, staring at Geralt, moonlight reflecting off his blue eyes. “This will protect me,” he said, as though trying to convince himself. “And I _want_ it, it’s on _my terms_ , it’s not weak-”

“Of course it’s not weak!” Geralt said, stroking his friend’s hair. “Dandelion, well, I can’t say you’re not weak, because you’re a bloody coward, but this isn’t what makes you weak.”

Dandelion was silent for a moment, then whispered, “Maybe I’m a coward because of my condition.”

“You’re a coward because you were educated in poetry and geography at Oxenfurt instead of in swords and weapons in the military.”

“Perhaps I choose that life because of my inherent weakness.”

Geralt sighed, wishing he’d not said anything. “You love poetry, Dandelion,” he scolded. “Who gives a damn why you decided to pursue it?” He studied his friend’s sorrowful face for a moment before saying, “And poetry is brave, isn’t it? Putting your heart out there, standing on a stage to be heckled-”

“You’re shit at comforting people.” Dandelion laid his head back on his chest, closing his eyes. “But you might be right. I’ll think about it.”

Geralt ran his fingers through Dandelion’s hair in silence for several minutes before trying again. “When the heat starts, what do you want me to do?”

“Hide me.”

“That’s been taken care of.”

Dandelion nodded, licking at his lips as he thought. “I’m trying not to think about it, Geralt.”

“You’ll have to think about it, you know,” Geralt chided. He could tell his questions were making his friend uneasy, but he pressed on, “The knot could last for…. A while. Shall I take you on your stomach or your back?”

Dandelion grit his teeth. “I’ll sit in your lap.”

He nodded, still brushing his hand through the blonde’s curls in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “This won’t change our relationship,” he said. “I swear it, Dandelion.”

“Geralt,” the poet shifted, looking up at him with something akin to amusement. “I _know_. That’s why I asked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pegasus is canonically the name of Dandelion’s horse. Also why does Roach have a character tag but I’m the first to tag Pegasus???? 
> 
> SHAME.


	3. Chapter 3

They had three blissful days of enjoying life at Kaer Morhen before it happened.

Geralt had - as usual - woken before Dandelion, slipped from the bed, and dressed before making he was downstairs.

He was sitting at the table with Vesemir, laughing and joking over breakfast, when Lambert appeared in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest and his expression stormy. “Geralt. Come now.”

He stood without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Your-” Lambert grit his teeth, as though reminding himself not to call Dandelion a whore, and instead said “- _poet_. He’s in heat.”

“Go,” Vesemir said, but Geralt was already halfway across the room, panic swirling through him. He shouldn't have left him to wake up on his own, in heat, in a strange and dangerous place. 

Eskel was crouched outside the door to Geralt’s room, his sharp eyes alert as Geralt and Lambert rounded the corner. “I found him in the hall,” he said softly. “I think he was trying to find you, but he’d gotten lost.” He nodded to the door. “I shoved him back in there and sent Lambert after you.”

“You shut him in there _alone_?”

Eskel tilted his head. “In my experience - not that I’ve had much, as a beta - alphas don’t want people touching their omegas.”

“He’s not mine,” Geralt snapped. “I don’t own him, and I trust you with my - and Dandelion’s - life.” And his chastity (not that Dandelion still had that, given his predilection to stick his cock in any semi-attractive man or woman). But the idea had probably been a good one, he couldn’t imagine what Dandelion would have thought of Eskel looming over him, even if the Witcher only meant well.

Eskel nodded, although something flickered in his expression, telling Geralt that he appreciated the words of trust.

He stood, walking toward Lambert. “We won’t be far wolf,” he promised. “We’ll keep our distance, but if you need us….”

“Thank you.”

“Try to keep it down though, would you?” Lambert gave him a grin that was entirely animalistic. “Otherwise we might be tempted to join in.”

Eskel punched him in the arm.

“Dandelion would bite your cock off,” Geralt retorted.

Inside Geralt’s room, Dandelion had ripped the blankets off the bed, curling them into a small nest which he was in the center of. Geralt studied the mess for a moment. He’d never seen the poet make an actual nest before - sure he _cuddled_ , but that was different - although he supposed circumstances had never allowed it the few times Geralt had seen his heats. He absolutely reeked of heat and arousal, and beneath that, a bit of fear.

“Dandelion,” he called, crouching beside the poet. He held out his hand but didn’t touch him. Dandelion closed the gap for him, arching his back and pressing his forehead into Geralt’s palm with a whine.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t want to,” he whispered. “I- I- damn it, Geralt! I want you to carry me.” 

Geralt nodded and scooped him up, taking a few of the blankets with them. The poet panted as he carried him through the keep, his face already shiny with sweat.

The mage’s rooms were, as Vesemir had promised, intact. They had even been cleaned recently, with clean sheets on the bed, and Geralt made a mental note to do whatever repairs Vesemir asked of him without complaint. He dropped Dandelion onto the bed, then rubbed his shoulders. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he said softly.

“Now,” rasped the troubadour.

Geralt stretched out on his back, tilting his head to expose the small scent glands on his neck. Dandelion sat on his lap and ran his thumb over the sensitive spot, studying them with an unreadable expression.

The Witcher didn’t move, letting Dandelion move at his own pace. Even with his mutations, it was getting more difficult to control himself. With a closed door, the scent of Dandelion was starting to build up, a smell of heat and arousal that he didn’t want to ignore.

“Give me a moment,” Geralt murmured, slipping Dandelion off his lap and crossing to the window, pushing it open. Three walls of the room were underground, only one had a window, which looked out over a sheer cliff.

Then he returned to the bed, letting Dandelion crawl back on him again. Then, as if he was afraid he’d lose his nerve, he leaned forward and sunk his teeth into Geralt’s neck.

The Witcher groaned, a noise of pure pleasure that radiated through the room. He’d never felt anything like Dandelion’s bite, not as he sucked at the skin, lapping his tongue over the glands. It felt inhuman, sending a strange and usual feeling of desire through him that ended in his cock.

Once Dandelion’s teeth had released him, he carefully rolled the bard over, as per his request, then rubbed his lips over the scent glands on the bard’s neck. He felt strange, slightly light-headed, and a thrumming desire that was difficult to control. He’d never bought into the excuse about alphas not being able to control themselves around omegas, but something about the troubadour’s bite had awakened something in him. Something that his mutations had always controlled.

He wanted nothing more than to hold Dandelion down and sink his teeth into his soft flesh, but instead, he grit his teeth. “You’re certain-”

“Fuck- yes, Geralt yes!”

He pressed into his hole at the same time as he sunk his teeth into the bard’s neck, Dandelion’s squeal of pain, which ordinarily would have made him hesitate, sent jolts of pleasure to his crotch.

Dandelion scrambled to grab ahold of the blankets as Geralt pulled him onto his knees, pressing as deep inside him as he could. _He wanted more, to bury himself in the poet so far that he ripped in half, wanted to fill him with seed, watch him swell with it, wanted him to trap him in the room so no one else would look at him again, wanted-_

“Geralt- my neck- Geralt! It hurts!”

_Shut up_ , snarled a voice in the back of his head. He had a sudden overwhelming desire to shove Dandelion’s head into the blankets to silence him. But he stopped himself, removing his hands from Dandelion’s hips and his teeth from his shoulder. Then he froze, a familiar whimper breaking through his clouded mind. The poet was openly weeping, his body trembling beneath Geralt.

“I-“ Geralt didn’t know what to say. “Dandelion I- I’m so sorry, I-” He tried to pull away, but something stopped him. Dandelion yelped again and he froze. A sudden realization dawned on him: the strange flash of pleasure he’d felt had been his knot. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but the joke about Geralt trusting Eskel with Dandelion’s chastity is a reference to a scene in Witcher 2 where Dandelion says “I’d give you my chastity! If I still had it.” 
> 
> [I’m not making this shit up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT42GFej7tk)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo. Have you guys been dying to hear about Dandelion’s past?
> 
> Trigger Warning: Rape is discussed in this chapter

Geralt made himself stay perfectly still, not allowing his mind to dwell on the thoughts of only moments prior. He’d never had those urges, not with Dandelion or any of the other omegas he’d been near. It disgusted him, how close he’d come to violating his friend’s trust.

“How do you feel?” For the moment, Dandelion’s heat seemed to have calmed down. All the literature he’d managed to get his hands on said that they’d have anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours before he was once again consumed by lust. Of course, the literature was very focused on the alpha’s thoughts and described various ways to wring pleasure from the omega during that period, even if it hurt them.

Dandelion’s shoulders were shaking and it took a moment for him to compose himself to the point where he could answer, “Strange, Geralt, very strange.”

“Any pain?”

“No I- oh fuck.”

Geralt tensed. “What?” he asked sharply.

“No, no I’m fine, Geralt, it’s just that-” Dandelion grabbed his hand, placing it against his stomach. Thinking he wanted to be cuddled, Geralt rubbed his stomach gently. Then he froze. He could feel a definite lump in Dandelion’s stomach, as though his organs had shifted aside to make room for it.

“Is that-” 

“Yes, Geralt, that’s your knot.”

“How is that not harming you, Dandelion?” He wouldn’t admit that, deep down, the feeling delighted him, bringing back the thoughts he was trying to banish. ~~_Fill him. Make him swell._~~

“I have a horrible feeling I’m going to feel it in great detail once the heat wears off, but at the moment, I’m a bit numb.”

Geralt didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. He hadn’t thought to look into this before offering. He cursed himself mentally. “Dandelion, I-”

“Don’t apologize, its fine.” The voice in his head protested, ~~_Beg my forgiveness. Worship the pain, omega. Worship me._~~

“I’m going to lie back,” Geralt said. He kept a firm grip on Dandelion as he leaned back against the headboard, letting the minstrel snuggle into him and get comfortable.

“At least you’re soft,” Dandelion mumbled, leaning his head back onto Geralt’s shoulder. “I was with a man once who- does this bother you?”

“Hmmm?”

“Me, talking about other partners while you’re in me. Does that bother you?”

“Whatever pleases you, my friend.” His instincts, the new, unfamiliar ones, were bubbling beneath the surface, saying that it was _very much not alright_ , that he ought to strike Dandelion for having suggested it. But he smiled, showing no outward sign even as his mind snarled, ~~_Rip the knot out. Make him beg you to put it back in his bleeding hole._~~

The poet shifted, blissfully unaware of Geralt’s inner turmoil. “As I said, I was with a man - female alphas are even more rare than male, after all - and oh, it was like being fucked by a brick wall.”

Geralt snorted, a sudden image of Dandelion trying to fuck an actual wall flashing through his mind.

“My- my father picked him out for me, thought to send me off with him. I was meant to let him mark me,” he said softly. A swell of anger rose in his chest, and he couldn’t decide if it was the new impulses or just an old habit of protecting Dandelion.

“But you didn’t,” Geralt guessed.

“He bit me, but I refused to bite back.” The poet’s voice had gotten softer, and Geralt rubbed his stomach soothingly, careful to avoid the lump. “Oh, he was livid, Geralt.”

“The alpha or your father?”

Dandelion snorted. “Both.” He’d gone almost perfectly still. “That’s why- you know Geralt, I hadn’t thought about it before, but that’s why I don’t like to be taken from the front.”

“Oh?”

“He tied me to the bed and took me on my back. Wanted to see my face, not to mention, it made it easier to bite.”

“I’m sorry Dandelion,” he rubbed his friend’s shoulder, letting the bard turn his head and nuzzle into him. The closeness, Dandelion’s nose being so close to his scent gland, sent a wave of pure happiness through him, like the kind of relaxation you would get from a good massage.

“There was…. a lot of blood, after it all.” Dandelion licked his lips, sighing. “He just left me, tied on the bed, wanting to be cuddled and touched. I couldn’t even curl up on myself or under the blankets.” Tears had formed on his cheeks, and Geralt carefully wiped them away. He had a sudden urge to lick the tears off Dandelion’s face - or off his own fingers at the very least - so he quickly swiped his hand over the blankets to clean it.

“My father came in after that.” He scoffed. “Told me I was being ungrateful. That I should have been honored that a lord wanted to bond with a lowly omega bastard like myself.”

Geralt sucked in a breath. Dandelion rarely spoke about his family, he wasn’t on speaking terms with most of them, only a few cousins that would help him in a pinch. He’d known his friend was a bastard, but only because his cousin had mentioned it. It simply wasn’t something they talked about.

Dandelion let out a soft moan. His voice was strained as he said, “Geralt I need a- ah- a favor.”

“Are you alright, Dandelion?” Geralt asked.

“The feeling in my arse has started to return, and I’m going to need you to - ah - keep me talking. Keep my mind off the - ah - the pain. ”

“About what?” he asked. ~~_Don’t talk to him, make him feel it, make him squeal._~~

Dandelion grit his teeth. “Anything, Geralt, as long as I don’t have to think about what my insides feel like right now.” He was clutching his stomach, so Geralt took his hands gently, pulling them to either side.

He asked the only thing that came to mind. “Was your mother an omega?”

“I- I think so,” he said quietly. “I don’t know, in all honestly. I never knew her. He fired her after I was born, knowing him, she was probably still bleeding from the birth when they threw her out.”

Geralt was quiet for a moment. He never knew what to say when Dandelion was talking about his feelings (unless it was about women, in which his advice was usually just to go spend a night in a brothel and forget whoever he was moping over). But talking about his family? Geralt had no experience there. He must have moved without realizing it because Dandelion gave a soft hiss of pain. Geralt squeezed his hands. ~~_Smack his stomach. Make him feel the knot_~~ , murmured the treacherous voice.

“He was so happy that I was an omega,” Dandelion said softly, his lips were right next to Geralt’s ear, his head twisted at a strange angle to accommodate. “He thought that he had gamed the system, made a useful bastard that he could sell to the highest bidder. Ha! I showed him when I went off and left home.”

“Is that when you went to college at Oxenfurt?”

Dandelion nodded. “I ah- _befriended_ one of the professors. They arranged my scholarships in exchange for the privilege of bedding me during my heat.” The poet laughed. “I suppose you could say I prostituted myself for an education, but at the time, I had few other options.” 

Anger coiled in Geralt’s stomach. He must have growled, because Dandelion said, “Don’t be angry, Geralt, I benefited from it far more than they did.”

“Are you happy Dandelion?” he tilted his head, looking sideways to study the whimpering man on his lap. ~~_Are you happy Geralt?_~~ asked the voice in his mind. He was, in fact, and that made him feel almost sick. 

“Not exactly, no,” said the poet. “Your knot is rather large and uncomfortable, as it happens, and my head is a bit fuzzy from the hormones.”

“In life, Dandelion. Are you happy with your life?” Again, the voice snarled, _~~He's living his purpose, as a hole. Let him find joy in that.~~_

“I’ve been dealt a rather shit hand, but I’d say I’ve made the most of it, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first part of _A Shoulder to Cry On_ that I wrote. And one of the first scenes I imagined for this whole a/b/o series. 
> 
> That's why you're getting two chapters in a day. I thought about making you wait anyway, but I couldn't help it.


	5. Chapter 5

Dandelion grew hard not long after that, but he refused to let Geralt touch him, instead jerking himself off.

The Witcher leaned his head back and closed his eyes, ignoring the pangs of desire that were spiraling through his body. It seemed to him that the marking process was focused around the pleasure of the omega, since there didn’t seem to be much Geralt could do for himself without harming Dandelion. As long as the knot was in the poet, he couldn’t even touch himself. He kept waiting for the dark voice in his head to return, but it seemed to have vanished for the time being.

Not that he minded, it was nice to relax against the headboard, even if he felt strange and a bit aroused, and Dandelion was a pleasant weight in his lap. After finishing himself off with his hand, Dandelion rolled his head over, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder, whining softly.

“What is it?” Geralt asked.

“I’m horny.”

The Witcher snorted. “Aren’t you always, you whoremonger?”

Dandelion nipped at his neck, but there was no force behind it, barely marking the skin. The Witcher reached up to run his fingers through Dandelion’s hair with a soft sigh. “I-I think the knot is softening.” He was still afraid the horrible thoughts would return, but focusing on Dandelion’s gentle eyes seemed to have done the trick, even if the poet seemed a bit annoyed at the teasing.

Dandelion snorted. “It is,” he promised. He leaned his head back with a groan, closing his eyes. “Fuck, it feels good.”

Geralt snorted. “I thought it hurt.”

“Eh,” Dandelion peered at him through one eye. “Who ever said that was a bad thing?”

The Witcher only shook his head. ~~_See?_ ~~Murmured the dark voice. ~~_He wants it._~~

True to Dandelion’s word, the knot softened soon after, enough that Geralt could carefully lift the poet’s hips, letting his cock slid out of the abused hole. He’d have liked to lay Dandelion on the bed and check him for wounds, but the poet didn’t seem interested.

Dandelion slid from Geralt’s lap, his shoulders shaking. “What do you want?” Geralt asked slowly. Surely it couldn’t be…. Over?

To answer his question, Dandelion was suddenly back in his lap, grinding into him and moaning, this time facing him, burying his face in Geralt’s neck where his scent gland was.

For the first time, Geralt didn’t ask first.

He pulled Dandelion forward, hitching the poet’s legs around his waist, and thrusting into him. The bard moaned and bucked his hips, rutting into him. Geralt didn’t take him gently as he usually would, and Dandelion didn’t ask him to, instead they bit and snarled, both of them leaving bruises from their mouths and fingers.

Dandelion ended up on his back again, Geralt looming over him and thrusting into him. Then they wound up with Geralt on his back, Dandelion bouncing on his lap. Even with the open window, they were both soaked in sweat which mixed with the slick and semen to create a filthy mess. But Geralt couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Dandelion was such an active participant.

He couldn’t be entirely certain that the bard was enjoying himself, but he was much less miserable than he had been the other times Geralt had bedded him.

They kept at it, bruising and biting until it seemed to have finished, and they were laying in a sticky mess in the sheets. 

Dandelion was the first to move, although he barely seemed to have the strength to push himself to his elbows. He stayed like that for a moment, in perfect silence, then squeezed his eyes shut.

“Out,” Dandelion said. For a moment, Geralt didn’t move, then Dandelion shoved his shoulder. “Get out!”

“Dandelion, let me-”

The bard struggled to his feet, barely keeping the blanket around his shoulders as he shoved Geralt toward the door. “Dandelion, you’re hurt!”

“I said get out!”

Geralt considered. For a moment, he thought about doing as the poet asked, but finally he shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “Dandelion, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, I’ve never ordered you around, so give me this: I’m not leaving you.” He could have forced him into obeying: either by growling, which Dandelion would be hard-pressed to ignore or by grabbing the back of his neck to scruff him and make him go as limp as a ragdoll. But he couldn't do that, not to Dandelion. So he'd have to use logic or brute force instead of biology. 

Dandelion’s sides heaved as he struggled in Geralt’s grasp, clearly, he wanted to say something, but the Witcher wrapped his hand over his mouth. “This isn’t because you’re an omega, it’s not because I mated you, it’s because you’re my _friend_ you stubborn bard!” He landed a slap on Dandelion’s ass, not hard enough to harm, but enough to serve as a warning. The troubadour practically thrust into the smack. Even with his heat over, it seemed he wanted more. ~~_Slap him again,_~~ purred the dark voice. 

_Tempting_ , thought Geralt. But he stopped himself, rubbing his hand over Dandelion's ass in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

The poet let out a keening wail, fresh tears staining his cheeks. Geralt laid him back on the bed, rubbing his hands through Dandelion’s golden curls.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

Dandelion nodded.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Geralt tried to roll off the bed. “Let me-”

“No,” Dandelion whispered. “Just- just lay down. Please, Geralt. Just lay with me.”

The Witcher paused, running his hands through Dandelion’s hair. He wanted to scold him, to tell him to make up his mind already, but he knew he couldn’t ask that of him. Dandelion reeked of confused hormones and pain, the mating mark on his shoulder still oozing blood. He probably wouldn’t be thinking clearly for some time.

The bard peered up at him hopefully. Geralt sighed and stretched out beside him, wrapping him in his arms. He wanted to check him over, to see if he was hurt and to offer him something to soothe it. But then again…..

Geralt felt his friend bury his face in his shoulder, lapping his tongue over the Witcher’s scent marks. "Easy, Dandelion," he murmured, "don't forget to breathe." 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dandelion and Geralt talk about their problems for five seconds, then move on because that's all they're capable of.

Geralt lost track of how long he cradled Dandelion in his arms, rubbing the poet’s back and murmuring to him quietly. The omega continued nuzzling into his neck, practically worshiping his scent gland with his tongue. But finally, Geralt lifted him from his lap, sitting him on the bed. “I’m going to draw a bath.”

There was a bathing chamber connected to the bedroom, and he had little difficulty drawing water up from the pulley set in the wall, placing the buckets by the fire to warm. He carried Dandelion into the room, placing him in the tub before pouring the steaming water over him slowly.

The poet whined and held out his hands. “I’m coming,” Geralt promised, stepping into the tub and drawing Dandelion into his arms once again.

“Geralt?”

“Yes, Dandelion?”

“You aren’t upset that I told you to leave, are you?”

“No, I’m not upset,” he promised, brushing Dandelion’s sweaty hair out of his face, then pulling him to rest against Geralt’s chest, pushing his nose into his curls. The poet smelled of exhaustion, sweat, sex, and, to Geralt’s concern, a bit of fear.

“This won’t change anything, Dandelion,” he promised, rubbing his back. “We’re still friends, after all, and that comes first.”

“You won’t get jealous when I go after others?” There was an undercurrent of fear in his tone when he asked, but Geralt only shook his head.

“No, Dandelion, I won’t. Just try not to cause me too much trouble.”

“I never cause trouble!” protested the bard.

Geralt only laughed.

He washed Dandelion carefully, taking extra care to wipe over the bite and scratch marks that he’d left on his body. The poet straddled his lap as he washed him. Without thinking, he ran his hand down Dandelion’s spine, cupping his bottom, and pulling him closer. The poet whined and leaned into each touch, then, to Geralt’s surprise, insisted on returning the favor.

He didn’t quite know what to do with himself as Dandelion bathed him, seeming delighted with the subservient task. But even Geralt couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the ministrations.

The water was no longer steaming by then, so Geralt left Dandelion in the tub long enough to strip the bed, replacing the soiled sheets with a clean set, then he returned to help Dandelion out of the tub and towel him off. The bard was too tired to stand, so Geralt easily picked him up and carried him to the bed, tucking him in.

He found himself a fresh set of clothes, changing into them, then slipped from the room, promising to be back as soon as he’d found something to eat. Geralt walked down the narrow passage, around the corner, up a flight of stairs, and tripped over Eskel who was stretched out across the hall.

“Damn it!” he shouted, stumbling and struggling to catch himself, but only failing and falling to the floor.

“How is he?” Eskel remained calm, even as Geralt glared at him, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Fine.”

“And you.”

“Fine.”

Eskel nodded. Then gestured back toward the mage’s quarters. “I’ll bring food.”

* * *

Dandelion picked at the food Eskel brought, only eating what Geralt practically shoved down his throat.

He sat on the bed and wrapped himself in the blankets, watching the snowflakes drift by the window. “I thought I’d feel different,” he said finally. “But I don’t, Geralt. Why don’t I feel different?”

Geralt swallowed a bite of food. “Do you want to feel different?”

The poet tilted his head thoughtfully. “Hmm. No, I suppose I don’t.” He picked at his nails for a moment, then nibble a bit more at his food. Then he rubbed his hand over the bite on his neck.

“It won’t show under your collar,” Geralt promised.

Dandelion seemed to grin. “Makeup, Geralt, makeup. I can’t have a lady pulling off my shirt and seeing that I’ve already been claimed. She’d go running for the hills.”

The Witcher half expected the nasty voice to come back, with a comment about Dandelion hiding his mark, but to his surprise, it didn’t. He didn’t mind Dandelion covering the mark, not if it meant his friend could live some sort of normal life. He thought about it, then asked, “What are you planning to do now?”

“I haven’t decided. I’ve had enough adventure for a while, I’m certain that. Don’t laugh! I do enjoy an occasional rest. Perhaps I’ll go to Oxenfurt.”

“Planning to give any lectures?”

“Perhaps. Are you planning to attend?”

“Perhaps.”

Dandelion grinned. Geralt had stopped in on a few of the guest lectures he’d given at his alma mater, and while he still had no idea what the poet talked about, he enjoyed going just to see him. He didn’t have to understand Dandelion’s profession to enjoy it.

* * *

They spent the rest of the winter in Kaer Morhen, and Dandelion acclimated surprisingly well. He seemed happier than he had been since his capture in Temeria, in a way that wasn’t forced or intended to distract himself.

No, he seemed entirely happy and for that, Geralt was grateful to the other Witchers. Yes, Lambert was still sore about the omega joke, and they all gave him a hard time about his ‘pet’ bard, but they knew to keep it out of Dandelion’s hearing, which was all he could ask for.

When Winter was finished, Dandelion and Geralt went their separate ways, the poet heading south past the Yaruga and Geralt heading toward Cintra. War was brewing, and as much as he’d prefer to stay out of it, he knew he couldn’t leave the child of surprise that he’d acquired, not if it meant their death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir totally took turns sitting just out of earshot to keep an eye on their friends. 
> 
> This ends basically where Season One of The Witcher ends (with Geralt going to Cintra to find Ciri). I have plenty more ideas for this, so we’re not done yet!
> 
> And listen, I don’t mean to disappoint, but while these two idiots certainly love each other, they’re not capable of monogamy. Not at all. So that won’t be happening.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to [Follow me on Tumblr](https://sunflowersupremes.tumblr.com/). I accept prompts, fangirling, and accusations of character abuse.


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